Movement
by pinkyandthebrain912
Summary: Soul games in the dangerous dark. Bellatrix and Hermione play at submission.
1. My Move

_**A/N:**  
Constant Reader,_

_Let us play a game. Though the wrappings may be new, the writing is familiar. Time will only tell; let your minds become less inchoate and discern this literary jest. Let's do like Tom, and have a little Riddle. To the first reader for whom the fog clears, a humble prize awaits. Much like Rumpelstiltskin, all we require are our names._

_Chew on that,_

_Pinky And The Brain_

* * *

"Please." A gasp, a plea in the dark. A hand reaches out to entwine long, dark locks around it. Pulling closer, needing more. The young witch needs more, begs for more.

"Please what?" Words sharper than a blade cut through the soul, to the chase. No patience for shyness here, no soft acceptance, no bent knee. No, in this place one must earn all rewards that one seeks.

"Please, just... anything... I need..." A cruel hand grips flailing cheeks, squeezing together cracked and bleeding lips, stemming the flow of nonsensical speech.

"You are wasting too many words. Just tell me what you want." The dark witch snaps. Chocolate brown eyes widen. "Do you think you can properly articulate at this point?" A nod. Vice grip loosens, but does not release.

"Hit me. Force me. Take me." Pretty pleas (pretty please) fly from the girl's mouth. A smirk in reply. Amused black eyes. Gestures of dominance. Pulling hands above an eager girl's frame, holding them in place by delicate wrists with a mean hand. Moans from a hungry mouth, escaping between bitten lips.

A practiced tongue traces delicate patterns across a pronounced clavicle, occasionally teasing olive skin to gooseflesh with wicked teeth. Sweet, needy gasps caress the dark witch's ears. Cruel teeth take far too much and just enough. Coppery love dances on a lusting tongue.

Lips crash into one another, Bella forcing the taste of blood into Hermione's mouth. The young woman gratefully accepts and laps at the taste of her very life on tongue. She bites a forceful lip to red in retribution, blood mingles, copper alloy of desire. Hermione's head swims with the need for breath as Bella takes her mouth for all its worth. Desperate hands beat against a hard chest. Taunting lips curve to smirk and allow much needed air to starving lungs.

The young woman's body seeks out contact, pressure. Bella refuses, moving with the brunette witch's rolling hips, denying much needed friction. She laughs at the woman beneath her cruelly. "Slutty little thing." She taunts.

"Fuck you Lestrange." Acid coated words. Mad smile falters. Eyes narrow. A thigh slams against the young witch's sex indelicately. Pains spreads across the young woman's face. "Fuck, yes." She stares into endless black eyes. They are as starved as her own. "You can do better, cunt. Fuck me."

A snarl, bared teeth. Pink tongue slips forth to lick rubies from hungry lips. Cruel fingers tangle brown curls, pulling Hermione's head back forcefully, exposing a tender olive throat. Bella's tongue licks a trail from the base of the young witch's delicate neck up to her ear, taking the soft lobe between teeth and nipping. Her thigh thrusts an erratic and irregular pace between spread thighs.

Moans accost her ears. The dominant witch whispers calculated cruelty into the ear previously caught between teeth. "You want better? I'm going to fuck you until you forget your fucking name." The core against her thigh becomes slicker. She grinds more forcefully, fluidly into the woman.

"Bella, please..." A smirk paints across the dark witch's face. Lips pull red to the surface as Bella kisses, bites her way down the young woman's body. Hermione's body a bridge, demanding more contact, her perfectly flawed and beautiful breasts high, commanding Bella's attention. Even one as cold as Bellatrix Lestrange cannot ignore such beauty begging for corruption. She takes one sweet, erect nipple between her lips, flicking her tongue over it as her free hand caresses the soft curve of the other. Her senses fill with the faint smell of sweet sweat and something that is just the girl, her own phermonic, tempting scent. She switches tactics, loving the other breast with her mouth.

Hermione's chocolate brown eyes leak fat, wet drops in desire. "More... Bella, more!" Black eyes flash. Hot pain spreads across a young cheek. A sickening crack of skin on skin that leaves the accosting hand as sore as the receiving face. Just as anger comes, the expression of that most hostile emotion appeases. Bella smiles maniacally at the print of fingers on the girl's face. Tears increase, desperation multiplies tenfold.

"You don't demand things of me, slut." Hermione nods her submission into Bella's neck, kissing her devotion into skin.

Bella admires the young woman's shapely body, the curve of her waist, the swell of her gorgeous hips, the gentle planes of her stomach, all enticing, endearing, demanding. She moves lower, kissing her way down further. She pays close attention to each hip, loving the rhythmic roll of the young witch's body toward her. Her hands caress the waist, reach up to cup breasts, slide up to her throat, squeezing not gently. Her nails rake down the woman's skin, eliciting gasps of pleasure, leaving trails of blooming red in their wake. Oh to have more than two hands, to touch more of this perfect creature.

Hermione groans with the sight of Bella's arms wrapped around her thighs, breath caresses her naked sex. She resists the urge to thrust wanting hips toward cruel mouth. Dark eyes watch with pleasure as the girl fights her own desires to placate Bella's dominance. It feels as though an age passes before that first touch or lips on her sex.

Bella moans at the sweet taste of the young witch. Vibrations transfer from her tongue to Hermione's clit, eliciting a delicious response of bucking hips. Trapped moans beat at the cage of the girl's constricted throat. Bella laughs into her sex and slides the flat of her tongue along her slit. She dips inside the girl, thrusts once, twice, thrice and licks back up to her needy clit.

Hands squeeze generous thighs, grip the soft flesh beneath the young witch and lift her body up, pulling her closer, trapping her between hands and mouth. Ruthlessly she devours Hermione whole. She rides with her the girl crests, fails once, brings her back to that elusive edge and slides two fingers into the empty place, pushing her unceremoniously off that cliff.

Bella looks up to see tears flowing, unrestricted from soft brown eyes. She continues to lap at the girl, increasing the pressure of her hand's thrusts, quickly forcing the girl to a second climax. A small hand tangled in her long hair, wrenching her face away. Bella moves, sitting in straddle upon the girl's hips and wipes her mouth politely with her index finger.

She leans down and spreads Hermione's honey across bitten lips, before kissing the taste of the girl back away from her. "Your move." She laughs into the young witch's ear...


	2. Our Move

Young witch Granger didn't make this easy for her pureblood lover. Snarky eyes disarm creviced depths and force pride to rear. Caught unaware, it only takes the bare minimum of movement, and the dark witch's hands render useless and bound, a fixed drawing upon tangled linen.

"No." Demands the proud mouth. Truffle eyes roll at this display of candied defiance; Bellatrix truly is the rare delicacy, dark and bitter…and eminent. Hermione crooks low to Bella's jaw line, tasting from chin to ear…tracing lips and gaining her sinful chocolate.

"You'll beg before this is through…you'll even ask nicely."

Whispers are malicious shavings, grated and pungent. Hips buck irately in response, demanding sovereignty. Hermione's eyes glitter beetles, full of the amusement dominance begets. Liberty is denied.

"I will _never_…never to _you_." Bella's words snarl, as does her struggling mane.

Hermione ignores easily, tracing gentle patterns across her abdomen. Quivers. Touches dance too humanely and stroke the hole where innocence once lived. How Bella hates gentle touch. This dark soul requires the forceful score; unfinished and untuned scales, notes debase…the dirty dirty. Lovemaking is stupid the option for this broken soul; 'tis _love-breaking_ that is the saluting key most charred. The flag slinks around the thickened pole and she wants to impale herself a martyr and blast the mast.

"More." Bella demands, eyes averted.

A condescending chuckle meets this order as foe. Hermione withdraws her hand completely, leaving empties behind. Fingertips consider the handprint upon her own face. And then the angry arm rises, combing down the wind. The backhand of a vicious slap ignites a cheekbone. Pale face blossoms pretty red strikes, and thrusts to the side by fey force. Fireworks detonate grenades and smoke onyx eyes to implosion.

The first moan.

Hermione's laughter bubbles underwater. Bella is only aware of her face, the unsympathetic stinging, the stinging…the stinging. When eyes find focus again, they take photos of the smiling girl atop her. Pennies taste thick in the mouth, and pour from a split lip. Compelled, moisture pools in condemned eyes. The woman refuses them, blinking Achilles away, letting them roll down the hollows of her face. One digit is a false mercy; from the woman's face, the young witch delicately swipes away shame in salty drops. Instinctively, Bella unties her mouth to suck the finger. She pulls Hermione into cavernous depths and steals her tears back.

Hermione moans at this sight rare and pitiful, the fallen raven. She recognizes as power turns the wheel round, and the new player takes point.

"Say it." The spindle stabs, and she commands the threads.

Bella is small. Bella is nothing. Bella is down dirty deep…where she belongs. She is the weakness she fears. She is the polluted little girl who cowers in the back of a sullied mind.

Then the sultry smile adorns Bella's lips, her best jewel. Why fight this hell, when she could burn as she truly is?

"Use me." She says quietly, "Burn me." She lifts herself open, trembling the offer. Presenting her body as tool, she stretches out for her lover's eyes and purpose.

Fingers run through her hair, destroying curls in happy pillage. She moans softly, restrained, but leans into the contact. Tender touch turns unexpectedly; a sharp tug of her hair. Pins and needles spear her scalp, as Hermione angers at the side-step surrender.

"Fucking say it!" Hermione demands no white flag…she wants to brandish the black one.

More tears are unshed.

"Please..." A word whimpered, a surrender never voiced outside such confines. Submission. The glory of pain, the wet pleasure from the appalling. This, all things human in one act.


	3. Your Move

Battle-ram fingers smash her through, splintering the cunt into smithereens. Hermione is cruel with her fucking hand, and Bella's mouth screams silence during the first wave of attack. The girl in her dirtied mind cries out with the sweetness of pain, shackled to her masochism. Hermione pummels and Bella rides her perfect knives. The orgasm hurts and shocks the body into rise. Accidental magic; levitation off the bed. For a long moment, she freezes there in suspension, before falling back to bed in demolition.

No time given, the shocks still spasm. Hermione drags her to all fours by her curling hair. Bella's neck is yanked back and twisted painfully to meet hard eyes.

"Are you a _bitch_, Bella?" Hermione singsongs false security.

Unthinking, as orgasm afterglow paints her arrogant once again, Bellatrix cackles the response, "I'm the _head_ bitch in charge…"

She growls her gasp as her ass is smacked, hard…her body inverts, sloping the spine.

"Well then…it's about time someone fucks you like the stupid bitch you are…"

Bellatrix's eyes scream open; her throat yowls as four fingers penetrate from behind, fast and furious. Humiliation spreads as the hand fucks her like the dog she is. For a time, she struggles fierce against the domination; no one_ takes_ Bellatrix Lestrange. But that deceptively strong arm wraps tightly around her middle, cutting off escape. It thrusts her cunt unforgivingly upon the slick invaders. She bites her lip through, refusing to cry out and satisfy her opponent.

"FUCK you…" is growled, but it comes out more as breathy grunt, hitching a ride to rapid pants.

"No, dear Bella…_I'm_ fucking _you_…" Hermione bites a trembling shoulder to bruise, enjoying the writhing form of defiance beneath her.

She keeps up the studious strength, the pressure. Hermione's hand slaps degradation against the once proud sex. A faint whimper travels to perked ears.

"I'm sorry _what_ was that? I didn't," THRUST, "…quite..." THRUST, "…hear you…" Hermione mocks, slamming painfully into clenching walls, nails digging into the arched back.

The "…please…" comes pitifully, the voice breaking small…and shamed.

Hermione finds trembling lips, pouting in incredulity and forced captivity. She consumes them as one sly finger slides out and trails sparkling wetness up to puckered flesh. She smears the rippling canvas there with Bella's body paint. Beneath her brush, Bellatrix tenses horribly; bleeding lips savagely bite Hermione to swells. Bellatrix thrusts hard, back against the terrible triad still within, all the while hissing atrocity into the girl's mouth,

"Don't you fucking dare, Mudblood…" She warns with wide eyes.

That damning finger swirls taboo, teasing Bellatrix into unwanted quakes.

"I fucking dare…and you'll fucking _like _it…"

Unceremoniously, the finger slides in. Bella hisses her ire and bites down on the girl's neck, desiring to maim. But she fills wholly, her holes conquered and stretched. Bella thrives in self-deprecation, but her stifled groan fails and slips out. Hermione rewards the crime, moving them into dirty-land as thrusts are completion. The free thumb suddenly grazes her clit as the dark witch bucks beautifully. Unhooded, Hermione is harsh and rubs raw as she fucked holes. Bella becomes the blissful object, manhandled and thoroughly abused.

"Such a pretty fuck you are…"

This reality is hoarse, and licked against her writhing throat. Bellatrix comes as a stampede; screaming her black dirties into the night, as loud ditties clamp hard around fingering digits. As delirious shrieks echo, Hermione forces the witch to continue her shameful ride, building her up and breaking her down. She forces the undulating witch to kill pride and search for humiliation once again. All the while thinking,

"My move, Bella? My _win_ indeed…"

* * *

**A/N**: You know the game. Take a solid swing and guess wisely. Reviews save souls.


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